


Elf Come Calling

by Rakshi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas time and Elijah gets his own personal elf!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elf Come Calling

Elijah stomped around his Venice Beach house carrying one very dirty tennis shoe, glaring at various pieces of furniture and piles of magazines as though they could somehow be held accountable for the fact that he couldn't find its mate.

"Fuck!" He gave his ottoman a kick, then yelped again in pain. 'FUCK!" Wincing as his voice morphed into a painful throbbing in his head, he quickly sat down. Sighing, he nursed his smarting, shoeless toes and tried to remember what he'd done when he got home last night.

Elijah was not a prodigious drinker. He liked to get a good buzz on, but normally switched to something light long before he became truly inebriated. Or at least before he became inebriated enough that he had no memory of the party the next day.

But last night was different. Last night he had really tied one on. And now on top of having the grandfather of all hangovers, he had no memory what-so-ever of what had transpired when he got home or where his shoes had landed when he kicked them off. He'd found one lying in the corner behind his armchair, but it's mate was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," Elijah half-whispered, mindful of his already aching head. He had searched his living room twice so far, so searching it again seemed pointless. He stood up, sighing. "I'm going to check the kitchen. What the hell. Can't hurt."

He'd taken three steps when his doorbell rang. "Oh, damn,' he moaned, sagging. "Last thing I want is company." He hesitated, and had nearly decided not to answer it when a voice floated to him from outside: "Hey, Lij! It’s me! Open up!" Sean.

Elijah went to the door and threw it open. Sean stood before him. He was carrying a cardboard box from which streams of garland and a couple strands of lights were dangling. Several bulging trash bags lay at his feet. He grinned at Elijah, his face happily cherubic, a plush Santa hat perched firmly on his head.

"It's Christmas!" He chirped. "Lets decorate!" Pausing, he scrutinized Elijah briefly, then muttered: "You look like shit," and shouldered his way past him and into the living room. As he passed, he stooped and pressed a soft kiss to Elijah's cheek, then tilted his head toward the waiting trash bags. "Grab those, would you, babe?"

Elijah complied, moaning as he bent to grab the bags. "What the hell are you doing here, Astin? And what's in these?" He shook the bags at Sean before dropping them on the living room floor.

"Elijah!" Sean cried in dismay, dashing to a bag and quickly opened it. He peered inside, pawing the contents. "Whew," he muttered upon emerging. "Nothing broke." He grinned, again, at Elijah. "These are CHRISTMAS things, duffus! They're breakable!"

"Seanie," Elijah said in a voice that sounded whiney even to his own ears. "Can't we do this another day? I'm sorta… hung."

"But, Lij, we're both off today." Sean said. "That might not happen again before Christmas." He rubbed his hands together and looked around cheerfully. "Where's your tree?"

"What tree?"

"Your Christmas tree, of course!" Sean replied. He walked to the couch and sat down heavily, then half–stood and looked underneath him curiously. "What the hell…" He reached beneath the cushion and pulled out Elijah's other sneaker. "This where you keep your shoes?"

Elijah sighed and took the sneaker. "Sean…" he said. "Listen, babe. Can't we… "

"Where's your tree?" Sean asked again, looking at him brightly.

Elijah dropped both shoes and studied the face he loved. Underneath the Santa hat, Sean's face was suffused with gladness. The sweetness of his smile melted Elijah's heart. He was right. Their time alone together was infrequent. A rare treat when it happened and the subject of endless phone conversations when it didn’t.

"I don't have a tree, Sean," Elijah said gently.

"That's OK," Sean told him, rising and heading for the door. "I brought one. I'll get it."

Elijah watched him walk out the door then shook his head in surrender. "OK," he muttered to himself. "I can see I’m going to have to do this. So let's just DO it. Maybe it won't take too long." The bottle of organic headache pills was on the kitchen window-sill. He opened the fridge to grab some water and his eye fell on a six-pack of beer. Undecided, his hand wavered, edged toward the beer, then stopped and grabbed the water instead.

"Tempting," he thought, downing 3 of the pills with a long hard swig. "But it might make things worse instead of better."

He heard the door open and then the unmistakable sound of a large box being scraped against the floor as Sean wrestled it into the house.

"How fucking big IS this tree?" Elijah asked, coming forward swiftly to help him.

"I dunno," Sean said, peering into the box to check its contents. "Six feet or so I imagine. Maybe less." He peeked up at Elijah. "But you've gotta have a tree, babe. It's Christmas!"

"OK, Sean. Well, now I've got one. What color is it?"

"It's green, Elijah," Sean said in surprise. "What other color would a Christmas tree BE?"

"White," Elijah said. "Blue, maybe."

"Green," Sean said firmly. "REAL Christmas trees are green."

Elijah giggled, then winced as a stab of pain hit his head. "Uh, Sean? This tree isn't real."

"Hmm, that's true," Sean paused, considering. "You wanna go get a real one? I know a place where we could go chop one down. It's neat!"

Elijah winced again. "No, Seanie. No. This one is fine. It's real enough for me."

This time Sean noticed the wince. "Your head hurt?"

"I told you I was hung over."

Sean was instantly contrite. "God, I'm sorry. You need to lie down." He pressed Elijah onto the couch and lifted his feet, swinging them around and up onto the cushy sofa. Then he dashed into the kitchen and Elijah could hear water running. He smiled in spite of himself. 'He's an irristable force,' he thought, not unhappily. 'No sense fighting it.'

Sean reappeared with a small, obviously hot, towel in his hands and leaned over Elijah solicitously. "Here. Put this on the back of your neck."

"It'll get the couch wet," Elijah protested.

"So what? It's just water. It'll dry. Try this for me, Lij."

Elijah allowed Sean to drape the towel against the back of his neck, and he had to admit that it did feel good.

"You take anything?" Sean enquired, settling Elijah's feet on a pillow.

“Yes, Sean,” Elijah sing-songed in a voice thick with patience.

“Just asking,” Sean said, tucking an afgan around him. “OK. The tree. Where do you want it?” He looked around the room for potential spots, then turned back to the couch. ‘Hmm?”

Elijah sat up, holding the towel to the back of his neck. “I dunno, Sean. By the window, maybe?”

Sean scrutinized the spot by the window from several angles while Elijah readjusted his towel and grinned. “Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. “Looks good! Lie down, babe. I’ll do the tree. You supervise.”

“I’ll be a lousy supervisor,” Elijah noted. “I can’t even see the window from here.”

“Get up and stand back for a second,” Sean instructed, walking toward the couch.

Elijah reluctantly stood, and when he had taken a couple steps back, Sean grabbed one end of the couch and spun it until the couch was facing toward the window. “Now you can see,” he pronounced happily. “Lie back down.”

Elijah walked around the couch and sat. “I’m OK to sit up. Head’s feeling better. So is that our spot?”

Sean was busy picking up the magazines which were scattered all over the living room. “Jesus, Lij, this one’s from 2002!” He sat the pile on the floor next to the ottoman and surveyed his spot. “Yeah! That’s it. That’ll work!”

While Elijah watched, he unpacked the tree, sorting it’s branches by size into several piles. “There!” Sean said. “Now we just plug the branches into the right holes and we’ve created a tree!”

“I thought only God could make a tree,” Elijah teased.

“I thought I WAS God,” Sean replied.

Elijah burst into hysterical giggles, interspersed with moans as residual twinges of pain shot through his head. "Oh, you did, huh! Where'd you get that idea?"

"From YOU! It’s all I ever hear when we're in bed together." Sean said, grinning. “'Oh god! Oh god!'" He snickered as one of Elijah's tennis shoes sailed past his head. "Hey now! Be nice, little boy. I'm keeping track you know."

“Are you god or Santa? And please! Whoever you are, don’t make me laugh. It hurts!”

Sean, busily sticking branches onto the tree, glanced at him. “Better watch what you pray for, bub. I may not be in a forgiving mood.”

Elijah snorted and arched an eyebrow. “I have ways of getting you to forgive me.”

Sean snickered and wriggled the top of the tree, trying to get it as straight as possible. “You’re bad. You could end up with a sock full of coal with that kind of talk.” Then he stepped back and looked at the tree admiringly. “Looks good, huh? How’s it look from where you are? Is it straight?”

“Looks great, Sean,” Elijah said. “What are we going to put on it?”

“What do you think is IN this stuff,” Sean asked, flopping down on the couch beside him and waving his hand at the bags and box.

“Stockings full of coal?”

“Hardly. Besides, you’re not bad enough to get coal.” He slid his arm around Elijah’s shoulders and nuzzled his cheek. “There’ve been times this year when you’ve actually been pretty good!” He laid his palm against Elijah’s face and turned it toward him. For a moment their eyes met, and then Sean kissed him tenderly. “Damned good in fact!”

“You oughta know,” Elijah murmured, returning his kiss. He snuggled against Sean’s body, pushing him backwards, and sighed happily. “This is nice,” he said. “This is very nice.”

“It is, babe,” Sean told him, wriggling away with an effort. “But we have to trim the tree and put up the other decorations first. THEN we snuggle!’

“You,” Elijah told him. ‘… have the most fucked up sense of priorities!”

Sean laughed and handed Elijah one of the trash bags. “Start pulling stuff out of there. OK?”

Elijah peered into the plastic bag, then reached in and pulled out another box. Inside it was a rather antiquated looking ornament. "What's this, Sean?" he asked. "Looks old."

Sean glanced over from where he was stringing lights onto the tree. "Oh, that!" he replied. "It is old."

Intrigued, Elijah studied the ornament. It looked hand painted, but was worn and chipped in spots. It pictured a snowy, outdoor scene with a stout, red-suited Santa smiling down on two shivering young boys who gazed at him with upturned faces. The boys fascinated Elijah. Their young faces seemed filled with a wistful yearning that touched Elijah’s heart. "It's pretty." Elijah commented. "But sorta sad."

"It's one of the things I saved." Sean told him plugging in another strand of lights. "It hung on my tree when I was a kid and I managed to save it from my mother's rage. I always thought those two boys were Mac and I. Weird how kids think, huh?"

Elijah laid it carefully on the table next to the couch. "You don't want to put it on your own tree?" He asked, digging into the bag again.

"Nah. Chris doesn't like it." He stood on tip-toe and wound lights around the top of the tree. "Besides, I'd like you to have it."

Elijah smiled at him, then reached back into the trash bag. A box full of bright, round ornaments emerged next. Then a box which contained several odd looking ornaments depicting Christmas scenes and figures. These ornaments were ceramic, and seemed rather unskillfully painted. "What are these?" Elijah asked, holding one up.

Sean laughed and walked to the couch. He took the ornament from Elijah's fingers and smiled at it. "I made these," he said softly. "My grandmother helped me." He shook his head and carefully placed the ornament back in the box. "You got an extension cord anywhere?"

"In the kitchen. Cupboard above the fridge."

Sean wandered away while Elijah examined the ornaments more closely. He could see that the young craftsman had tried hard to paint the ornaments with care. Turning it over, Elijah saw on written on the back: 'Sean - 1979'.

"Eight years old," Elijah whispered.

Sean returned carrying the extension cord and quickly connected it to the tree lights.

"Turn it on!" Elijah said.

"Not yet, goofy!" Sean told him, laughing. "First you have to decorate it. THEN you turn the lights on so you can see how pretty it is all at once!"

"These are sweet, Sean," Elijah told him, gesturing to the box of hand-made ornaments.

"There were more," Sean said, beginning to hang the round, shiny ornaments on the tree. "But that was the year she knocked the tree over. I hid them after that."

Elijah gasped and turned quickly to look at him, but Sean was unconcernedly hanging ornaments as if his statement were the most natural thing in the world.

The ornaments went on quickly, though not without supervision. "A little to the left there, Sean. Put that one up higher."

"Elijah…," Sean said, his voice rising in warning.

"There’s hole near the bottom. Right there! No! Higher!"

"Elijah!"

"Hey, I'm just tryin' to help, Santa."

Silence.

"Needs more red ornaments on the left there, Sean."

"Coal," Sean mumbled. "Definitely coal."

Finally only the Santa ornament, and Sean's hand-made ones were left. "Put these in the front where I can always see them, would you?" Elijah asked, handing them to Sean one at a time.

"You really like them?"

"They're part of you. Of course I like them." He handed Sean another ornament. "Plus, they're from a part of your life that I haven’t really understood. Means a lot to me to have them." He placed the last of the hand-made ornaments in Sean's hand, glancing up into his eyes. "Knocked the tree over?" He asked softly.

Sean shrugged and turned to hang it on the tree. "We set it back up again," he said. "Dad and I."

Elijah nodded. "You were eight years old."

"Yeah. 'Bout that, I guess." He turned back to Elijah. "Is that it?"

"That's all that was in the bags," Elijah told him, shaking the bags to reinforce his statement.

"Garland now," Sean told him, grabbing a long, silvery strand and beginning to wrap it around the tree.

After only a moment he was finished. "Ready?" He asked Elijah, holding the plug close to the socket.

"Do it!"

Sean pushed the plug into the socket, and the tree immediately began to glow with hundreds of multi-colored lights. Sean turned the lamp off and walked to the couch. He sat behind Elijah and gently pulled him back against his chest, winding his arms around the slender body. Elijah's head tipped comfortably back, nestling against Sean's shoulder.

For a long moment they both were silent. The tree-lights began to blink, and the silvery garland and bright ornaments threw multi-colored glints all over the room.

"Sean, it's beautiful," Elijah said, turning toward him. "Thank you for doing this. And thank you for sharing some of your treasures with me."

"You're my treasure," Sean told him. "One of my chief treasures." He gestured toward the tree. "Those are just… things. Up 'till now those ornaments carried sad memories for me." He touched Elijah's cheek. "Now," he said softly "… they'll carry beautiful memories."

Elijah turned and sprawled out on the couch. Held close in Sean’s arms, his face burrowed against Sean’s shoulder, Elijah felt joy fill him with a languorous warmth as rich as cognac. From where he lay, he couldn't see the tree. But the silvery glints of multi-colored light flickering over every wall, signaled it's presence. "Last thing I figured was that I'd be able to feel any Christmas spirit today," he said in a muffled voice. "But, I do. Personally delivered by my very own elf."

"I have a couple more bags in the car," Sean said.

"What? More decorations?"

"No. One's my duffle. Got my clothes and stuff. Thought I'd spend the night… if you don't mind."

Elijah grinned massively and hugged him tight. "Make my DAY why don't you!!"

"Make your NIGHT too, I hope!" Sean replied.

"What's in the other bag?"

"Milk, hot chocolate mix, and marshmallows," Sean said.

"You ARE an elf!"

“Thought I was Santa!”

“No. YOU thought you were god!”

“I’m neither,” he murmured, kissing Elijah’s hair. “Listen. Let’s drink hot chocolate then make love in front of the fire. I want to see the lights glowing on your naked body.”

“Is that the only reason you wanted to decorate? And yeah. After that statement I’d have to agree that you’re neither god nor Santa.”

“No. That’s not the only reason I wanted to decorate. Tell you the truth, it just occurred to me. It’ll be the only reason I want to decorate NEXT year.”

“It does sound like a great plan though,” Elijah whispered.

“To me too,” Sean told him. “Merry Christmas, baby. I love you.”


End file.
